


Three Dinners and a Man Who Wants to Destroy our Heroes

by verboseDescription



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Jewish Character, Jewish Comics Day, Jewish Superman, Kinda, Purim, rewriting superman movies and making them jewish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verboseDescription/pseuds/verboseDescription
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex Luthor hates heroes, so it's only natural he wants them gone.<br/>Unfortunately for him, his agenda is as clear as a bug's wings. Meaning we'll catch on to him pretty soon.<br/>Sort of sequal to "From the Stars"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Dinners and a Man Who Wants to Destroy our Heroes

Bruce Wayne will remember the Metropolis disaster just as well as Clark Kent. The sound of children crying will be seared into his brain forever.

Gotham City is a town that breeds distrust. Seeing Superman does not fill him with hope. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth. His only thoughts are to prevent something like this from happening again.

Life goes on.

Eighteen months later, Bruce is invited to a party by Lex Luthor. To the surprise of everyone, he goes.

 

It’s clear Luthor has an agenda. Bruce assumes everyone has an agenda, of course, but Luthor makes his obvious.

“You know what they say: power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Luthor waves his hand, “So Superman…”

There are politicians nodding, but a woman shakes her head.

“He saved us all didn’t he?” she argues, “Against his own people. It’s a clear sign of his loyalty, is it not?”

“Miss Prince,” Luthor says, giving a smile of a man who does not like to be proven wrong, “As much as I appreciate your comments, I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree. Just because someone didn’t side with an enemy does not make him our _friend_.”

Miss Prince simply shrugs. There are others backing her up now, which was clearly all she wanted. Luthor spots Bruce listening in and immediately uses him as a distraction.

“Bruce!” he says, “Have you met Diana? She’s an antiques dealer, always has the best stuff.”

“You flatter me,” Diana says. Her eyes don’t leave Bruce’s face. He smiles.

“Always happy to meet a pretty woman,” he says.

 

Clark meets Bruce Wayne and finds him to be exactly what everyone had said he was. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have thought this was suspicious—no one was exactly what the press made them out to be—but he was to annoyed to do anything but go to the buffet and stuff his face.

He sees Bruce leave the room but doesn’t do anything. Then again, why should he?

 

Clark Kent spends his time researching Batman. He doesn’t trust him.

Superman spends his time helping others. They call him a savior of the people. Bruce doesn’t trust him.

Lois Lane spends her time researching Lex Luthor. She knows not to trust him.

Lex Luthor spends his time instilling fear into others. He doesn’t trust Superman. He doesn’t trust Batman. He doesn’t believe in heroes, after all.

 

A dark haired woman approaches Lois’s desk on evening and tells her she’s on the right track. “But be careful,” she warns, “If I know that, so does he.”

Lois thanks her, and then asks if she has any more to share and for her name.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the woman says, “But pay attention to Gotham.”

She doesn’t give her name, but she does give her number. They stay in touch.

 

The files that Bruce takes from Lex Luthor only cement his position. Superman, and everyone like him, is dangerous. Admittedly, the metahumans Luthor has taken an interest in don’t seem to be malevolent, but powerful people don’t need to be to hurt others.

“It says here that Luthor is receiving a shipment of Kryptonite soon,” Bruce murmurs, “It’s the only thing that can stop Superman.”

“So you’re going to take it from him, then?” Alfred says.

“Yes,” Bruce nods, “And then I’m going to use it.”

Bruce doesn’t need to look up to know that Alfred’s heavy sigh is accompanied by a disappointed gaze.

“Right then,” he says, “Shall I ring Master Dick to ask him for some assistance?”

“I can do this by myself Alfred. I’m not that old.”

Besides, he had already lost one child. He wasn’t going to risk another.

Regardless of how much that child risked his life on his own time.

 

_Bruce dreams. The world is over. There is nothing but sand. He travels the desert, wandering. Superman is there and he—_

_\--A man appears in Bruce’s room. He looks as though he’s torn a whole in reality, and he doesn’t stop running._

_“Bruce,” the man screams, “You must save us.”_

_Bruce opens his mouth to ask, but it is too late the man is gone and—_

_\--_ Bruce wakes up to the news of the bombing. The trial of Superman hadn’t even begun and already there was causalities. Bruce stretches.

There is work to be done.

 

Luthor has his own plans. Batman had stopped him from getting his Kryptonite, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a backup plan. He had everything under control.

He always had everything under control.

If his eye twitches when he thinks that, it’s simply a coincidence. Nothing more. Diana may have originally swayed the opinion of General Swanwick against him, but with the Senator gone and people panicking, getting what he wanted was still very simple.

The ship is his.

And so are its secrets.

 

Superman knows Luthor is up to something. It’s obvious, but he wasn’t going to approach someone without evidence.

So Luthor gave him the evidence he needed and they spoke atop a Lexcorp building.

“Why do you hate me?” Superman asks, “What did I ever do?”

“You’re _powerful_ ,” Luthor spits, “What makes you think you deserve this power? There’s so many people out their _suffering_ because they don’t have anything _close_ to what you do.”

“I never claimed to be a god,” Superman says, “I’m just a man doing what I think is right.”

“I know,” Luthor smiles, “You’re just a man. Which means you have a mother, too. Just like the rest of us.”

“What have you done?” Superman asks, but he thinks he knows already.

“You have an hour,” Luthor says, “Bring me Batman’s head.”

Behind him, a bat signal lights the sky.

 

“I need your help,” Superman says.

“You need to die,” Batman says, which Superman finds a bit extreme.

“Please,” Superman says, but Batman is a paranoid man. The only reason he has lasted so long is because of this.

Batman throws a grenade in the air and soon there’s no more time for talking.

They fight.

 

Lois sees the bat signal in the sky and understands immediately where she needs to be.

“I need a chopper,” she says. The woman from before appears.

“I can get you one,” she says.

 

Superman has enough power to level a city. Batman has prepared for this.

His armor is strong enough to withstand anything. His spear deadly enough to finish off the strongest man alive.

And he almost does.

Batman feels a strange sense of pride in this. The Joker was still at large. Gotham City was still the mess it always was but if he could fell a man like Superman?

Those problems would be nothing at all.

“Please,” Superman begs, “You need to save Martha.”

If he could fell a man like Superman, Batman thinks, no one would stand in his way.

 

_Bruce sees the gun shoot. He thinks how lucky he is it doesn’t hit him._

_He hears a thump at both of his sides. Slowly, through his shock, he registers what has happened._

_Martha Wayne has fallen to the ground. Thomas falls next._

_Tears fall down Bruce’s face._

_And then he falls too._

_“How do you know that name?”_ Batman demands. He plunges his spear a little deeper into Superman’s chest.

“It’s his mother’s name,” a voice says. Batman turns. He sees two women. He knows them both.

Lois Lane, the journalist. The one who speaks for Superman.

Diana Prince, the antiques dealer. Who is, for some reason, dressed as a warrior? Batman decides not to ask.

“Save Martha,” Superman begs again. Batman pulls his spear out.

“Tell me what to do,” he says.

 

Superman goes to find Luthor.

Batman goes to save Martha.

Diana stays with Lois.

 

Martha Kent sits in a room filled with armed men. She prays not for herself, but for her son.

Let at least one of them get through this mess in one piece.

What she doesn’t expect is for a man dress like a bat to come up through the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I know your son.”

The he throws a batarang into a gun. Martha’s feeling more and more relieved by the second.

 

Luthor stands in Zod’s ship.

Batman hadn’t killed Superman, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a backup plan. He had it under control.

He had everything under control.

Zod apparently had samples of Superman’s DNA, and a way to turn them into people.

Luthor slits his hand. It stings more than he expected it to, but it fulfills its purpose.

Someone with his brain and Superman’s brawn. It’s just what he wanted.

It’ll be a wonderful tragedy. Luthor smiles.

Imagine that; Superman being killed by his own blood.

 

Before Diana had left Themyscira, her mother had insisted on throwing her a feast.

“I’ve been to man’s world countless times before,” Diana had protested, “This should be nothing different.”

“But it will be and you know it,” her mother insisted, “Besides, can’t a mother send her daughter off with a gift?”

A feast is no small gift, but Diana thanks her mother anyways. Her nerves get the best of her, and she eats nothing but a handful of nuts.

But whatever Diana had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

 

The boy in front of them looks like Superman but younger, and angrier.

He screams and buildings shake.

“It’s Luthor,” Superman frowns, “He did this.”

“Does he want us to fight a child?” Diana wonders.

“He wants _his child_ to fight me,” Superman explains, “But he’s still so new. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.”

“How new?”

“Well, he wasn’t born yesterday. But he was born today.”

“Ah,” Diana says, ignoring the joke mainly because she’s a bit too worried to laugh, “Some sort of duplicate then?”

“Yeah, a clone. General Zod, when he came to Earth, he took some of my DNA. He was going to use it to create more Kryptonians like me. Lex got ahold of the ship and used it. He explained it to me—well, some of it anyways. He wanted to gloat.”

“And you say he’s Luthor’s son?” Diana presses.

“And mine too,” Superman says, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Then there’s hope for him yet,” Diana says and draws her sword.

“Shit,” Lois says, “I tossed Batman’s spear.”

Superman and Wonder Woman charge forward.

Lois runs back.

 

The boy feels nothing but pain.

The world is loud.

The world is

SO

LOUD.

He can’t think.

He

He can’t.

His first memory is of a man introducing himself as his father. He barely knows what that is.

But his father is his creator. And his father wants a man dead.

So the boy tries to make his father proud.

 

When Batman arrives, the boy is tossing a boulder onto Superman.

“How’s my mother?” Superman asks, brushing off some pebbles from his hair.

“Safe,” Batman replies, “Who’s he?”

“Our newest enemy,” Wonder Woman says, capturing the boy with her lasso.

 

“You certainly know some interesting people,” Batman tells Superman.

“I thought she was with you,” Superman says.

“We certainly meet some interesting people,” Batman amends, making Superman smile.

 

“Miss Lane send she would bring your spear,” Wonder Woman says.

“I don’t want to fight a child,” Batman says. There’s a pause so long Batman feels a bit offended and both Superman and Wonder Woman give him strange looks.

“I think we should try and calm him down,” Superman says eventually, “He should have my powers—or most of them, anyways. That’s got to be pretty overwhelming.”

“Killing should only be a last option,” Wonder Woman agrees, “Let him regret what happens here, but live to see tomorrow.”

The boy sets his heat vision on them and Wonder Woman quickly puts up her shield, saving them all.

“Looks like he has your eyes,” she remarks dryly.

 

Lois almost drowns trying to get the spear, but she when comes out of the water gasping for breath all she thinks is how she’s getting the better end of the deal.

No one’s kidnapping her parents, after all.

 

“Listen to me,” Superman shouts, “You don’t have to do this.”

The boy hurls himself at him, letting out another scream. In all this, he has yet to say anything but Superman doesn’t blame him. The world is full of pain, and this boy has been thrust into it without warning.

“Kill Superman,” the boy cries, “Must kill Superman.”

Superman ducks, allowing the boy to be captured once again by Wonder Woman’s lasso.

“Concentrate on something,” Superman advises, “A sound. It’ll help.”

It wouldn’t help him control his strength, of course, but it was the first step.

“You must kill Superman,” The boy says, his words garbled but understandable.

“I think his mind is made up,” Batman says. He takes the spear from Lois.

“No,” Superman holds his hand up, gesturing for Batman to stop, “He’s found his own way of coping. He’s probably repeating what Luthor told him.”

“I can’t hold him forever,” Wonder Woman reminds them.

“Can you say ‘Tikkun Olam?’” Superman asks, “It means to repair the world. Like helping others. But right now, what we’re going to work on just helping you.”

 

Lex Luthor had put the words in his head, and they were all he could think.

It made him violent.

But Superman seemed like a good man. He wanted to put words in the boys head, but different words.

They weren’t a command. They were a salve, meant to do nothing but to help him.

The boy takes a deep breath.

“Tikkun Olam,” he says.

The lasso loosens. He doesn’t move.

“Tikkun Olam.”

“Now concentrate on my voice.”

Batman throws his last grenade. Green fills the air and the boy’s senses dull.

He feels

Relief.

 

In the end, they don’t need the spear.

 

The sound of the radio fills the Kent house. Lex Luthor, head of Lexcorp, has been recently jailed for inciting panic, slander, and murder. The charges against him were made possible partially because of contributions by the Daily Planet’s Lois Lane.

Diana takes a pie out of the oven and smiles. She’s very proud of her new friend.

“Be careful dear,” Martha Kent says, “It’s hot.”

“I have very strong skin,” Diana replies, “I think the raspberry one is ready as well.”

“I’ll get it,” Clark offers, coming into the kitchen, “You’re a guest Diana, you don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” Diana says, bring the pie outside, “But this means I can take the first slice.”

 

There’s six of them, not including herself—Bruce Wayne, his son Dick, Diana, the boy (he’s calling himself Conner now), Lois, and of course, her son Clark. Martha’s glad that they could all get together like this after everything that happened. It’s been a little while since Superman and Batman fought, but everyone had been too busy to meet up prior. Bruce had been looking for the other metahumans on Luthor’s files with Diana as well as fight crime in Gotham and training his new sidekick, who hadn’t been able to come visit. Clark was helping Conner get used to life in Smallville, but still tried to be as active as Superman as he could. Lois was always busy, but she said she was never too busy to miss out on a gathering of friends.

As soon as Martha goes back outside, she’s struck with the sudden urge to take a picture.

There’s Clark, who puts down the raspberry pie and turns to smile at Lois who beams back. Both of them look like love-struck teenagers.

There’s Diana, who cuts herself a large slice of her pie, and then hands it to Dick, pretending to eat the rest of the pie herself. He gives her a dirty look and she switches the plates, smiling, so he goes back to talking to her, now making fun of Luthor’s shoes. His arms are moving wildly as he jokes and Bruce has to duck every so often to avoid getting hit. He looks at his son with amusement and a raised eye, then turns to speak to Conner.

“I’m sorry Robin couldn’t come,” he says, “I’m sure he’d love to meet you. You look about his age, you know.”

There’s Conner, who responds to this by hiding his face in his hair and shoving his hands back in his jacket. Clark had helped him shave one side of his head and Bruce had insisted on paying for Conner’s wardrobe. The only thing that Bruce hadn’t got him was his magen David. That was Martha.

“Thanks,” Conner says, “I’d like that.”

And then there’s Martha, who immediately feels a rush of warmth when seeing all of this. She rushes back inside her house.

“Mom?” Clark calls, confusion clear, “Where are you going?”

“One second sweetheart!” she calls back, “I want to get my camera.”

Maybe she’s just being an emotional old woman, but she wants to capture the moment.

“All right everyone say…”

 “Luthor’s a criminal?”

“No that’s too long, say ‘metahumans.’”

“What about—“

“No, we’ll be arguing all day. Let’s take the photo!”

“Metahumans!”

 

Martha hangs the picture in her living room.

Sometimes dinners are worth remembering.

**Author's Note:**

> Conner was mostly included just because I thought the thing with apocalypse didn't make sense.  
> If there's a scene you want me to rewrite more fully, or have a prompt for jewish comics day just ask!  
> My tumblr is ofdreamsanddoodles


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